


When the Wolves Go Silent

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Deepthroating, Facials, Harry is young but LEGAL okay, M/M, Mild D/s, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Neighbors, Overstimulation, Porn, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spitroasting, THIS GOT WILDLY OUT OF HAND, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Zayn is super toppy in this I dunno, coming up with a title for this pornographic piece of shit was really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1793071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tread lightly forward, toward the master bedroom of his neighbour’s house. His neighbour who was doing something very adult and very private that Harry had no business watching whatsoever.</p>
<p>
  <em> Or, the one where a seventeen-year-old Harry trips his way into a threesome with his fit neighbour and his neighbour's fit friend. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Wolves Go Silent

**Author's Note:**

> I DON'T KNOW. The idea came to me fully formed, sprang out of my head like a tiny, filthy baby. I figured I needed more practice writing porn, so, here you go. HAVE PORN. HAVE A SHORT LITTLE PORN-LET.
> 
> Brit-set, so Harry's young but legal, etc., etc., but if the age gap makes you uncomfortable PLEASE DON'T READ IT. Seriously.

With only mild trepidation, Harry knocked loudly for a second time. His afternoon wasn’t shaping up the way he’d hoped; he was bored and alone and antsy. 

Sometimes when his brain refused to go quiet, when his limbs wouldn’t go still, he found he needed others, he needed help to get everything to smooth out again. He knew that Louis was always good to kick a football around or to make him a cuppa, somehow always able to figure out what he needed to make the world go still.

Gently knocking for a third time, he tried the door handle. He sucked in his lower lip as the door swung open, finding it was unlocked—intriguing. Alarming? Not as such.

Harry entered the foyer and toed off his shoes before shutting the door behind him. He padded into the next room then into the kitchen. About to call for Louis, his voice dropped instantaneously from his throat. A second, third, and fourth groan echoed throughout the ground floor and Harry bit his lip, hard. He tread lightly forward, toward the master bedroom of his neighbour’s house. His neighbour who was doing something very adult and very private that Harry had no business watching whatsoever.

“Fuck,” he muttered, feet stuttering to a stop outside the slightly propped door. His breath caught audibly at what he saw: Louis on his knees by the window, facing away from the door, face nestled deeply between some bloke’s thighs. And not just _some bloke,_ Christ, he had glass-cut cheekbones and inky lashes—and one powerful hand at the base of Louis’ head, apparently fucking his dick hard into Louis’ mouth.

Harry, breathless, lost himself in the doorway of someone else’s bedroom in someone else’s house.

“Think we got a voyeur, Lou,” muttered _whoever he was,_ making Harry gasp and cough. He watched Louis swivel around, red-cheeked but beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. He sat back on his heels, knees no longer taking the brunt of his weight. “Least he’s pretty,” the other one added.

“Neighbour, Zayn. C’mere, Haz,” Louis said, standing up gracefully. He was, mercifully, wearing boxer-briefs, sparing Harry—something, who at that moment caught sight of full-frontal—Zayn was it? Harry stepped forward without consciously thinking about it. “Hi, little voyeur.”

“Um. Hi. You said come—come over any time,” Harry said, face flushing.

“Come over, sure. Come, even. Not so much _spy.”_

“S-sorry.”

“It’s okay. Come _in_ here, babe, you’re about to shake out of your skin.”

“Sorry.” He stepped forward again.

“Zayn, Harry. Harry, Zayn.”

Zayn smirked but nodded politely. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You too.”

“He’s legal right? You’re legal?”

Harry nodded mutely.

“In that case, perv, keen to do more than spy?”

“Z, be nice,” Louis snapped, moving over to sit on his bed.

“And, what, neighbourly? Doubt Mr. Rogers would invite this kid in and shuck off his sweater.”

“M’not a kid.”

“H, why aren’t you at college right now?”

“Reading week.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “I’ll pretend to believe you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” Harry said, having regained some of his composure. “Your front door was open.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “Unlocked, or open?”

“Unlocked.”

“Perv.” Louis surveyed him and glanced to Zayn, who nodded. “You can stay or go. No watching, mate. We’re not selling tickets.”

“Meaning?”

“You know what it means,” Zayn warned quietly, starting to stroke himself.

Harry swallowed what little spit he had left. “Are you sure?” His voice took on a rough quality that surprised him, his tongue gritty, his mind fizzing out at the implications.

Louis laughed, loud and bright. “Are _you?”_

He nodded, grabbing the hem of his ratty tee and yanking it off over his head.

“Eager kid, aren’t you?”

“I’m _not_ a kid.”

“So you keep saying,” Zayn replied, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the bed. Harry walked over slowly, eyes downcast in a look that might pass for _demure_ in any other situation. Here he merely looked sheepish. “Keep going,” Zayn added, eyeing Harry’s waistband, which—seventeen-nearly-eighteen was doing him well, his hips had gone waspish into a deep vee, his abs newly visible beneath ever-lessening baby fat. He held back a smile and stumbled out of his jeans, which were perhaps a touch _too_ skinny.

“You too, you tease,” Zayn directed at Louis, who snorted unattractively. But they both made quick work of their remaining clothes and stared expectantly at one another. Louis nodded abruptly and moved off the bed so that he was on the opposite side, away from Zayn and Harry.

“K, Haz, how about you get up here, right? Face him. There you go,” Louis encouraged as Harry clambered onto the duvet, walking on his knees, his semi slapping his legs.

“Now, whatever Zayn here _says,_ he’s the real tease, innit? Won’t let anyone get inside, says he prefers a mouth on him more than anything else.”

“Cause it’s the only time I can get you to _shut the fuck up,”_ Zayn chided, taking Harry’s hands in his, guiding him to all-fours. “Good, like that.” He made eye contact with Louis behind Harry’s back, gesturing slightly, before returning his attention to Harry. “Very pretty like this, you know.”

“Th-thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Zayn smiled and traced the seam of Harry’s lips with the pad of his thumb. “He’s gonna open you up and you’re gonna tell me how you feel, yeah? Okay, Harry?”

“Okay.” He nodded curtly.

“Good.”

Even though he was expecting it, the cold fingertip took him by surprise, and he started forward, swaying slightly onto the heels of his palms.

“None of that, now. We’ve got you.”

Harry looked up at Zayn with trusting eyes as Louis pressed his finger inside—just one, gentle and slow, as Zayn continued to run his thumb along the seam of Harry’s lips.

“Good, so good, there we go,” Zayn murmured, using his other hand to ruffle Harry’s hair lightly. He soothed Harry through the stretch, the gentle press from behind. Harry breathed in and out as Louis added a second finger, his mouth opening pliantly. Zayn fed him two fingers after he took a breath, echoing the stretch from Louis. Harry hummed around him, sucking as he inhaled through his nose. “Another, Lou, if he’s ready. Ready?”

Harry nodded slowly, tongue alighting on Zayn’s fingertips. He keened as Louis added a third digit, the stretch turning into a slight burn. Then he moaned quietly as Louis twisted inside him, touching him in _just the right spot_ so that his eyes fluttered shut. “Such a good lad, you’re doing so well. So pretty, opening up for us.” A tad overdone, perhaps, but Harry hummed in appreciation anyway. He enjoyed praise.

Zayn fed him a third finger, which Harry lapped at, getting it a bit unnecessarily wet. But then Zayn removed his fingers entirely, making Harry pout and open his eyes—only to see him stroking himself languidly, eyes cast down to stare at him. “Nearly ready, babe?” Harry nodded, hasty but somehow sure, the burn turned into pleasantness and a deep yearning for _more._

Zayn smirked. “You sure?” Harry nodded again, forcing his body back onto Louis’ fingers, rolling his hips. He huffed loudly when Louis retreated, feeling empty and baseless. “On your side, love,” Zayn directed.

“Side?” he asked even as he moved to obey. He stretched out, easily spanning the width queen-sized bed.

“Head tiled back, yeah? Look at me. Bend your knees for Lou, okay? There you go.” Harry was in a vague approximation of the foetal position, head tipped back so he could see Zayn. He heard more than saw Louis open a condom and slick himself up, the noise of the wrapper and bottlecap loud in the relatively quiet room.

“Christ, Haz, I could just fold you in _half,”_ Louis growled as though shocked at his flexibility.

“Do whatever you want,” Harry dared, voice soft and gruff.

Zayn laughed and ran a thumb along Harry’s jaw. “Might live to regret that offer, love,” Louis replied, forcing his way into Harry without preamble. Harry moaned, mouth falling open so Zayn had the golden opportunity to stick his dick past the slackened lips.

Harry gagged slightly but adapted quickly, opening wider, spit coating his tongue. He groaned as Louis bottomed out, sending gentle vibrations up to Zayn, if the muttered curse was any indication. A distant part of Harry’s brain spat out the word _spit-roasting_ when he really just felt split open from front to back. He felt cut to his core, as though even his chest was levering open.

Louis pulled back, nearly emptying Harry out totally, making him keen again. Contorted in the weird position he was, he had very little leverage—his legs were bent to his chest, his arms splayed uselessly on the duvet. He couldn’t effectively wrap a hand around the base of Zayn’s cock, merely had to let Zayn feed it to him roughly.

And despite himself or because of everything else, Harry fucking _loved_ it.

Louis canted his hips forward again, filling Harry back up, making him moan. He tried to focus, tried to make his lips and tongue suction at Zayn’s dick even as Louis grabbed his hip tight, too tight. Harry wanted bruises and tears and muttered curse words, he wanted to be broken open.

Through some communication that was either nonverbal or too quiet for him to hear, Zayn and Louis fell into a syncopated rhythm, fucking in and out of him so efficiently he started to choke. Zayn planted a hand on the back of Harry’s head, holding him still so he could shove his cock over his tongue and down his throat without a warning.

Then he began to pump quickly, practically angrily, in and out, past Harry’s gag reflex, making it hard for him to breathe. With Zayn’s hand heavy on the back of his head and Louis’ hand tight on his hip, Harry felt moored down but fuzzy, like without their help he might have floated away.

He reminded himself to breathe, a difficult prospect at the best of times, now made infinitely more difficult by the monster-sized dick lodged in his throat. As Zayn choked him out, Louis simultaneously bucked into him, pistoning so hard their skin slapped together. Harry tried to yell around Zayn’s dick but no noise came out, no noise except the garbled, breathless sound of him gagging. They sped up, which Harry would have thought was impossible except, there they were, sawing back and forth at him like he might bust open if they just tried hard enough.

Belatedly he realized that, in addition to cursing, Zayn was muttering at him to _take it,_ as though he had any choice. He had ceded power as soon as he walked into the bedroom—whatever power he thought he had anyway, coquettish and coltish and young as he was. He had absolutely no control over anything at all.

His throat felt bright-hot and fiery, felt like he had been gargling rocks and pure ethanol, as Zayn pumped into his. He felt tears drip out of his eyes, felt spitty and snotty and a little disgusting. Thanks to the anchoring hands of Louis and Zayn, Harry couldn’t move much, made no attempt to wipe off his face, thinking maybe that was part of the deal, thinking that showed he was in it for real.

Louis snapped his hips, forcing his cock over Harry’s prostate, making his eyes tear up even more. If Harry could have managed a coherent phrase it likely would have been just the word _please_ over and over again.

His ears started to ring and his vision went fuzzy for a moment, the momentum of the pushing and pulling and yanking sending him outside himself. He was brought back to earth but Zayn growling, “Taking it so good, baby, you’re a fucking prize. Where you been hiding him, eh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Louis snapped, planting his other hand along Harry’s ribs, stroking his sweaty skin, scratching him gently. He slowed down his pace, adding a careful, “Breathe, Haz,” to the end of his thought.

Zayn grunted and fucking _tore_ on Harry’s hair, coming in thick ropes down his throat. He extricated himself so that some of his come pulsed onto Harry’s flushed face, spilling onto his cheek and lips. He chuckled lightly, a breathless sound, as Harry raggedly tried to remember what oxygen was and why he needed it.

Zayn ran his fingers through Harry’s fringe, mussing it, before he smeared the come with his thumb. “So messy, babe, fuck.”

Harry nodded, throat too raw to attempt to speak. He stayed splayed out on the duvet, trying to stare up at Zayn while Louis rutted into him from behind. Now that they were no longer playing tug-of-war with his prone body, Louis got more languid, rolling his hips rather than snapping them sharply.

Zayn grabbed Harry’s hands and held onto them tightly. “Come on, Lou. Make him scream.”

As if Louis needed some kind of permission to rip Harry open.

“Can you flip for me, love? Onto your front. There you go,” he encouraged when Harry weakly complied, limbs feeling floppy and shakey. He stuck his arse in the air, leaning forward onto his forearms so he could rest his forehead on the duvet. He felt blissed-out and idiotic, limp like a ragdoll except for where Louis and Zayn were anchoring him down.

Louis gripped his hips tightly and shoved inside him again, causing them both to groan, making Zayn stutter out compliments as he held onto Harry’s hands. He heard some random snippets, like _fucking you open, filling you up, is he?_ and _so pretty like this,_ but none of them resonated with him like the weight of Louis’ hands on his hips. All that mattered was the loud slapping of their skin and the way Louis was pounding into him _perfectly_ and Harry didn’t even know if he was going to come or if he was going to start crying again.

“Think you can come on command, Harry?” Zayn asked, his voice rough and fucking _wrecked._ Harry shook his head wildly, still face-down in the mattress, but Zayn squeezed his hand gently. “I think you can, baby, think you can try for me? On three?” Harry huffed out a breath, body completely overtaken by heat and a flush.

Louis changed his angle from behind and Harry shouted, adoring the feeling of Louis’ cock pressing on his spot so much he thought he might die. “One,” Zayn whispered, hands still tight on Harry’s. “You can do it, babe. Two.” Louis pounded into him roughly, groaning with each thrust. Harry tried to nod but only managed to flail a bit until Zayn barked, “Three.”

Harry came with a painful scream, his voice drowned out by the duvet and the mattress, his cock untouched the entire time. He felt some come hit his chest, sticky and warm, and he instantly began crying again, even as Louis continued to fuck into him and as Zayn murmured compliments into his hair.

_so pretty so good you’re lovely_ ran through the air as Harry went out-of-body, his brain distant and orbiting in the atmosphere. His head was finally quiet.

Zayn pressed a kiss to his temple but he didn’t feel it, didn’t feel anything for minutes until he returned to himself, returned to hear Louis grunting and babbling incoherently. His body felt raw and fire-hot, almost used-up. Louis moving in and out of him was almost too much, overstimulation making his tears well up faster even as Zayn peppered light kisses into his hair.

Louis pulled out of his abruptly and ripped the condom off, making Harry feel bereft and lonesome. For a moment the room was nearly still until Louis’ come hit his arse cheeks, hot and spurting. Louis groaned loudly, the sound breaking the silence and startling Harry enough that he stopped crying.

Zayn turned Harry onto his back as he tried to catch his breath. “Z, flannel, yeah?” Louis muttered, sounding destroyed and weary and elated all in unison. He shunted forward between Harry’s legs and pressed a kiss onto the bruise at his hipbone. He ran his hands over Harry’s sweaty skin and got onto the bed next to him. “Love, are you crying?”

“Not anymore,” Harry whispered, his voice very hoarse.

“What—what’s the matter?”

“Nothing at all.” His eyes fluttered closed and he reveled in the feeling of Louis’ fingers dusting carefully over his clammy skin. Louis and Zayn cleaned him off almost reverently, careful of the raw, stretched skin.

“Got a little carried away, maybe?” Zayn asked quietly, moving Harry’s fringe off his forehead. “You look a little fucked-out.”

“I feel a little fucked-out.” Harry curled up again tightly, eyes closed as they tended to him.

“Shit, Haz, your _voice,”_ Louis added, awe-struck. “What are they gonna think we _did_ to you?”

“Something not entirely neighbourly, I reckon,” he replied, swiping at a tear that lingered on his eyelashes. “So. Same time next week?”

He said that rather than _thank you,_ rather than _how did you know that was what I needed?_ rather than _being used makes me feel pretty._ He played the nymphette, flirting for all he was worth, rather than trying to explain how the constant noise and buzz of the world sometimes drove him crazy so that he needed a little grounding.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: musiclily


End file.
